


A Conversation in the Dark///Funera nec funera

by Just_another_shipper



Series: #ShipperFinishesWIPs2k19 [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Hurt/Comfort, I edited this while tipsy so, M/M, happy mothers day i guess, its technically not really mothers day where I am anymore but it still is somewhere I think!, moms are complicated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-02 08:23:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18807376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_another_shipper/pseuds/Just_another_shipper
Summary: “You know,” he continued, less frantic now that his breath had finally settled into something approaching normal, “we weren’t really supposed to celebrate my birthday. It was too risky. But every year, she would ask me to pick a day and on that day, she would take me to an IHOP and we would get waffles with candles on them.”Andrew didn’t really think that birthday waffles from IHOP were a replacement for being a good mother, but he kept that opinion to himself.-The aftermath of a nightmare, or: Moms are hard and that's okay (kind of)





	A Conversation in the Dark///Funera nec funera

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on this fic (on and off, mostly off tbh) for the better part of a year and I've finished it just in time for mother's day!!! This one goes out to everyone who's relationship with their mother is...complicated at best, mother's day is always kinda hard and this was sort of my outlet for getting those types of feelings down on paper! 
> 
> I'm still not super happy with the way that it's turned out, but I had to post it because I couldn't stand looking at it anymore
> 
> I have a [a twitter](https://twitter.com/Just_Shipper98), [a tumblr](http://just-another-shipper.tumblr.com/) and [a pillowfort!](https://www.pillowfort.social/just-another-shipper) Feel free to find me on any of those sites if you want, though I'm currently most active on twitter!

The dark of the room seemed to envelop them in an embrace that was more comforting than it should be for either of them. The room was held in a fragile stasis that neither of them wanted to break, the only sound was the sound of their breathing–Neil’s frantic and disorganized and Andrew’s calm and steady as if to act as a counter balance for the panic he could feel radiating off of his partner. 

Suddenly a lighter flicked open and the now-lit cherry of the cigarette appeared in the dark, slightly illuminating Andrew’s face while he waited for Neil’s breathing to stabilize. 

Neil hadn’t quite caught his breath, but he seemed determined to get the words out anyway. 

“Sh-she tried her best, you know,” Neil said shakily, “I didn’t exactly grow up in the best of circumstances, and-and was she supposed to just let me screw up and let us get caught?”

Andrew, who had killed his own mother in cold blood, said nothing. It was better for Neil to work this out on his own. Neil didn’t need his opinion, Neil needed his support, and so Andrew let Neil ramble on. 

“I mean, my father was tracking us down, and it wasn’t like he was any better to her than he was to me. God, Andrew, she must have been terrified.”

Neil was silent for a few minutes, his breath still unsteady. 

“You know,” he continued, less frantic now that his breath had finally settled into something approaching normal, “we weren’t really supposed to celebrate my birthday. It was too risky. But every year, she would ask me to pick a day and on that day, she would take me to an IHOP and we would get waffles with candles on them.”

Andrew didn’t really think that birthday waffles from IHOP were a replacement for being a good mother, but he kept that opinion to himself. 

Neil leaned closer to him in order to smell the smoke of the cigarette that Andrew was holding and without him asking, Andrew handed it over and lit a new one for himself. 

“Thanks,” Neil said, running a shaky hand through his hair. 

They were silent a beat or two more and then Neil continued, “Sometimes I hate her so much that I can barely breathe because of it. I understand that we were on the run and I know that it was dangerous, but-” 

 

Neil trailed off, seeming to not know what he wanted to say next. Andrew made sure that he was a steady presence beside him. 

“I just sometimes wish that I had grown up with a better childhood, I guess” he said, “I’m not saying that we should have stayed in one place or done anything that would put us in danger, but I just feel like I’ve missed out on so fucking much. I just feel so ruined sometimes because I’m so...so lost now that life is finally normal and I don’t really fit in, and, and-”

Neil stopped talking and took a drag from the cigarette that had been hanging from his fingers forgotten until now. His shoulders were shaking ever so slightly and Andrew would bet anything that if he touched Neil’s face, his hand would come back wet with tears. 

And Andrew, who knew something about feeling ruined and missing out, said, “I spent most of my time in Juvie thinking that I was broken. Hell, I’ve spent my entire life thinking that, you know? But I’d like to think that I’ve figured something out.” 

Neil slid his eyes towards him, the red rims and tears making them an even more startling blue than they always were. If they weren’t in the middle of a Thing, Andrew might even be giving him a percentage right now. 

“I think,” Andrew started slowly, trying to marshall his thoughts into some sort of order, “I think that it’s okay to be furious, you don’t have to just accept someone’s bad treatment just because you think you deserve it-” Andrew couldn’t quite keep that from being full of rage, but he had to trust that Neil knew him well enough to know that the rage wasn’t being directed at him, “-or because there’s something worse out there. You don’t have to forgive a slap or a beating or a punishment just because they might have been justifiable at the time. You don’t have to forgive her just because she’s your mother.” 

Once upon a time, Andrew may have just left it at that, but he had never just had Tilda, he also had Cass and so he let his voice gentle a bit when he said, “But you don’t have to hate her either. Sometimes, while you’re cleaning up the shards and filth and blood in your mind, you don’t have to hate her when one of those memories you pick up is a good one.” 

“Did Bee tell you that?” Neil asked, and Andrew was surprised to not find any of the usual derision and poorly concealed fear present in his voice when speaking about Bee. 

“Sort of?” Andrew said, not entirely pleased to be at the center of questioning now, “But mostly, it was me figuring it out on my own–and also the trial and everything really put things into perspective, I guess.” 

Neil turned over to face him, cigarette lying forgotten in his hand, and he had that look on his face that he had every time the trial and the Spears were brought up. It was a strange mix of sympathy and that quicksilver rage of his that made Andrew want to punch something. Or kiss him. 

He was working on it with Bee. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that maybe you need to let your relationship with your mother be what it is and just let it exist in that uneasy balance of rage and grief and love because it’s not like she’s alive to change it. Don’t let yourself be caught up in what things could have been, because there’s no way out of that spiral. Maybe Mary would have been a good mother if she hadn’t married a serial killing crime boss and decided that child abuse was the best way to make sure you behaved. Maybe Cass could have created a good home for me if she hadn’t turned a blind eye. But they did, and it hurts, and it’s a confusing mess of emotions because it would be cleaner if it just hurt all the time. But it’s not and that makes everything complicated. I guess what I’m saying is that you have to figure out a way to either reconcile those things, or accept them the way they are.” 

Andrew fell silent. He’s pretty sure that he just used up all of the emotions talk he could handle for the entire month at least. 

Neil looked at him searchingly for a moment before slowly nodding his head. “That’s–yeah, that makes sense I think,” Neil’s eyes softened, “Thanks, Andrew, and sorry for–” 

“98 percent,” Andrew cut him off harshly. He wasn’t going to let Neil apologize for having a nightmare. 

Neil’s resulting grin was the most life his face had shown since he’d woken up from his nightmare. “I want to hug you, yes or no?” Neil asked. 

“Yes.” 

After the hug, the room slowly turned back to dark as the cigarettes were put out one after the other, and the darkness enveloped them like wings once more. In the light of day, all of this would be, not forgotten, but less raw, like a wound, scabbed over. But now, in the black of the night, they at least had each other to patch up their wounds, both old and new.

**Author's Note:**

> Funera nec funera is a slight paraphrasing of a line in Catullus 64 referring to the Athenian youths that were sent to be sacrificed to the minotaur. It roughly translates to _the dead not yet dead ___


End file.
